


Siren

by shoukazai



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Choi San needs a Hug, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, House Party, M/M, Making Out, Mental Breakdown, Mentions of alcohol, Roommates, Size Difference, Swimming Pools, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Volleyball Player Choi San, even if it's not explicitly mentioned, in the pool specifically, san wears yunho's jacket, self-projecting onto yunsan again oops, yeosang is a rich boy, yunsan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-27 11:15:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30121944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoukazai/pseuds/shoukazai
Summary: “Get in the water.”Yunho stiffens. “Get in the what?”San’s hands rise from his sides, out of the 5 ft. deep water, and flat onto Yunho’s shoulders. His hoodie is matted with wet handprints, but he couldn’t care less really. Not when San’s hazy, inebriated eyes are boring into his own, the party’s fluorescent neon blues and purples a whole new different color as they reflect on them. Not when he coyly puffs his cheeks, lips jutting out in a pout. He can’t help but stare.“Please?” He had the voice of a siren. “Not even for a while?” Another pair of shoes sit beside San’s. And Yunho is dragged in.
Relationships: Choi San/Jeong Yunho
Comments: 10
Kudos: 52





	Siren

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiii I love yunsan can you tell ?? Anyway, I wrote this in a day :] it just couldn't leave my mind and it might be a little messy so do forgive me (as in... there are a lot of things left unexplained) This is kind of painful... also angst isn't really my forte so let's see how this goes! Kudos + comments appreciated as always !!!! it would mean everything if I received your feedback. <3 enjoy
> 
> songs I listened to while writing this hot mess until devil's hour 3:00 a.m.: 
> 
> 1\. Heat Waves - Glass Animals  
> 2\. God Damn - I.M.  
> 3\. You Get Me So High - The Neighborhood

Yunho knows.

He knows because it’s a Friday night and their university’s volleyball team just qualified for nationals. He knows because of the rushed brevity in Yeosang’s texts to him at 12:34 A.M., along with the address that leads him to a spacious mansion at the end of the cul-de-sac, alight with flickering neon colors. 

_Yeosang [12:34 a.m.]: Come over. He needs u_

_Yeosang [12:35 a.m.]: just to be sure- 7A Mugunghwa street_

Yunho pulls up to the driveway, ensuring he’s parked safely before stepping out of his jeepney. His steps are brisk and his vision is vigilant as he enters the mansion, the mingled scent of sweat and alcohol wafting to him, and though intangible it knocks the breath out of him and his lungs feel as though they’ve been crushed. He tries to ignore the shitty EDM music that booms through the surrounding speakers so vivaciously and so stiflingly as it clogs at his ears. 

Obviously enough, it isn’t even a conjecture, Yunho isn’t the biggest fan of parties. And yet for some reason his steps are accustomed as he walks around the palatial house, slotting himself through the spaces between moving, cavorting bodies, spaces that are somehow still small even with said bodies attached together in debaucherous dancing. 

Yunho knows. _Yunho knows the reason why._

His head perks up, spotting Yeosang by the kitchen island. Yunho struggles a bit more before he is freed from the crowd, he approaches the owner of the mansion.

“Yeosang,” He exhales a breath. 

“Oh! Yunho, hi--”

“Where is he?” 

Yeosang withdraws, the greeting left unfinished at the tip of his tongue. He jabs his thumb behind him.

Yunho doesn’t need anything more. “Thanks. The party’s great, by the way. Have a lovely evening.” And with that he brushes past the shorter boy, legs both absentmindedly and knowingly as they guide him to the direction Yeosang pointed at. 

_The private pool._

It’s private because it’s the one area Mr. and Mrs. Kang wants unruined, it’s private to Yeosang, his parents, and unbeknownst to them, his friends. Which includes Yunho, so with ease he inputs the code onto the electronic number lock embedded onto the glass doors, a green light indicates his verification, and he slides the doors open. From the corner of his eye he can see questioning, flummoxed looks. Yunho brushes them off. They don’t know what he knows. 

Yunho knows. Yunho knows the reason why he dropped everything (literally) at the notification from Yeosang, leaving unfinished worksheets at the foot of his desk back at their dorms, Yunho knows the reason why he drove to the mansion without glancing even once at the texted address, Yunho knows the reason why he maneuvers through the rooms with familiarity, why he can effortlessly encode the password of the exclusive number lock, and it has more to do with his friendship with the owner of the mansion. 

Yunho’s reason is a few meters away from him, faded pink hair strands askew in unnamable directions, and clothes soaked with water as he floats remotely with his arms out in the middle of the pool. 

“San?”

Yunho closes the sliding doors, locking them in the process as he walks closer to the edge of the pool, next to San’s classic torn black Vans and 2 bottles of redbull. Dripping pink hair is lifted from the water, Yunho raises his head up and their eyes meet at a converging point.

A soft chuckle. “Is that your eyeliner?”

A cascade of smudged black ink mixed with chlorine infused liquid paint San’s cheeks. It was messy, he was _wrecked_ in every form of the word. And Yunho found it quite pretty. Really pretty. “I… I forgot I was wearing it.” Came his hushed, slurred voice.

“What happened, San-ah?” 

The question was answered with a balked silence. Well, it wasn’t really _answered_ so to speak. Yunho still had no idea what the cause was for San’s recurred emotional breakdown. His roommate glides through the torpid pool waves, towards him. He ascends slightly, fingers gripping at the edge of the pool. 

Yunho takes his own, much bigger ones, onto San’s tainted face, swiping his thumb over the smudged remnants of eyeliner. His hands don’t withdraw and he feels San lean into his touch, his skin is cold from the water but there’s a distinct warmth at the contact that spreads from his palms, running through his blood and swarming his chest. Yunho smiles down at him. 

“How’re you feeling? Did anything happen?” His delicate words are emphasized with the gentle strokes of his fingers, as if painting San’s cheeks again, except only this time, there’s a light shade of heated pink in its wake instead of blotched black. 

But still, once again, it’s silent. 

Yunho’s sigh fills it in. “San-ah--”

“Just stop fucking asking me questions.” 

And by San’s request-- no, _order,_ the silence returns. It was jagged, sharp with every edge of the syllables. Yunho purses his lips. Water droplets fall from San’s hair onto his arm, a breeze of wind flows past them and he can feel the tremble of skin against his hand. 

“Get in the water.”

Yunho stiffens. “Get in the what?”

San’s hands rise from his sides, out of the 5 ft. deep water, and flat onto Yunho’s shoulders. His hoodie is matted with wet handprints, but he couldn’t care less really. Not when San’s hazy, inebriated eyes are boring into his own, the party’s fluorescent neon blues and purples a whole new different color as they reflect on them. Not when he coyly puffs his cheeks, lips jutting out in a pout. He can’t help but stare.

“Please?” He had the voice of a siren. “Not even for a while?” Another pair of shoes sit beside San’s. And Yunho is dragged in. 

“Fuck it’s cold,” Arms wrap around Yunho’s neck. “You love it.” And for a while they pause, somehow his heartbeat is louder than the booming music from inside the mansion. 

“I do,” San is giggling, throwing his head back. His throat closes at the sight of San’s bare skin, flat against his white shirt. The curve of his waist, the dips and edges of his muscles. He lunges forward and his head rests on Yunho’s shoulders. 

_I love you._

Yunho wants to drown. 

“You talk way too much. I think… I think you should talk less.” San whispers, breath hot on his neck.

“Yeah?” He quips, “What should I do... what should I do _more of,_ then?” San chuckles, it reverberates through his soul, the soundwaves leaving it empty. 

Legs wrap around his waist, and he’s head leveled, face-to-face with San. _Close._ “You didn’t answer my question.” Yunho clutches at his sides. The arms around his neck draws him forward. _Closer,_ to the point their noses nudge, and their contrasting gazes mirror off each other. _Wistful. Besotted. Longing. Desire._

“I think I told you to stop talking.”

“Make me, then.”

The distance closes in, San’s lips are soft, lingering of chlorine and alcohol and Yunho can’t get enough of it. They talk in wordless conversation, responding to each other in tandem. Yunho tilts his head to deepen the kiss, San pulls at his hair, Yunho’s shaky hands rake up underneath his see through shirt, San swipes the black hair off his forehead, caressing the skin there so featherly and so gently. 

_Yunho drowns._

San smiles into the kiss, dimples on each side of his flushed, damp cheeks. Their lips are shivering from the cold they are unable to feel. “I don’t need your… sympathy. Or your words,” He captures Yunho’s mouth again for a moment too short. “I really do like it when you talk less, Yunho-ah.” 

Yunho opens his mouth to speak but then remembers what San said _literally_ a few seconds prior and digresses, chewing at his bottom lip. San laughs softly, a shivering hand moving from his hair to his cheek, thumbing at the flesh there. Yunho settles him back down on the pool floor, his small palm stays on his cheek and the taller cranes his neck to the side slightly to leave a soft peck. 

A building silence reinstates itself in between their gazes. _Wistful. Besotted. Longing. Confusion._

And then it stops all at once. “W-We should probably get out of here now.” San unlatches himself from him, and in an instant the warmth evanesces with a frigid force. Yunho brushes his hands over areas the ghost of San’s voracious fingers linger delicately on, in hopes to perpetuate them. 

It doesn’t linger for long. Yunho is left feeling hungover and bare. 

* * *

_Yeosang [1:13 a.m.]: I left a towel for San by the door. Thanks for taking care of him. Feel free to stay here as long as you want :]_

Yunho doesn’t arrive back at the private pool area with just the towel alone, he deemed it as inadequate. So he brings his extra jacket from the backseat of his jeep, and a fresh, hot bowl of Seolleongtang. 

“You took long,” San’s voice was aloof, devoid of his usual drunken slurring. Yunho assumes he sobered up slightly. “I’m sorry,” He gulps down the instinctive pet name teetering at the precipice of his tongue, jogging over to his side, settling the bowl of soup in far proximity to avoid any situation that may conclude in spilling. “I just had to get… stuff for you,” He simpers sheepishly, flustered. 

San hangs his head low, and mumbles something under his breath faintly. Yunho couldn’t decipher it. “What?” He raises his face, the moonlight illuminating his features. The night sky’s luster seemed to glow prettier on San. He made it prettier. 

“Thank you…” His voice is hypnotizing. “Thank you, Yunho.” San fiddles with his pruney fingers bashfully. Yunho melts, dissolving to the point he could be one with the pool water. 

“It’s no problem,” _I’d do anything for you,_ he wants to say but it remains a forlorn thought, buried into the depths of his heart. Yunho situates himself on the floor, grasping at the towel hanging from his neck. He brings it to San’s face, rubbing gently and he feels the skin beneath stretch slightly. San offers him a tightlipped grin. He lifts up San’s arms, the stroke of the towel even more gentle now as it presses onto the sparse bruises from the previous tournament and from hours of practice. He makes a whimsical comment about his biceps, enamored at the instant flush of San’s face. 

“Wait,” San interrupts. And Yunho sucks in a breath, but it’s inhibited against his throat, because then San’s fingers are at the end of his shirt, hiking it upwards, the drenched white fabric peeling off slowly before it’s completely out of sight and the soggy, crumpled top is tossed to the side. 

Yunho is staring right at him. 

San’s cheeks are even more pink than his hair now. Breaking eye contact, he immediately grabs the jacket sitting on Yunho’s shoulder, slipping his arms through the large sleeves, his hands not reaching the ends of each hole. 

And fuck, it’s cute. It’s _so cute,_ he can’t help himself as he lunges forward to place a kiss on San’s mouth, swallowing the gasp that fails to escape it. Yunho grasps San’s freezing, jittering hands hidden underneath the sleeves, interlocking their fingers. He can’t help himself. 

In a way, Yunho might actually be some kind of a masochist. Yunho knows. He knows everything today will fade into evanescence as the sun rises up, he knows that San probably won’t remember anything when he awakes, he knows that San doesn’t see him as anything more than a roommate, a mere moment, someone to fend for him and emancipate him from his incessant periodical mental breakdowns. 

But he can’t stop. Because this goes farther, _deeper_ than any vices. And every drop of alcohol tonight can’t compare to the way water droplets would land on San’s lips as he kisses him, pouring the secrets and ciphers of his yearning heart, a heart that yearns for more than a moment-- for forever, for nights that go past drunken conversations and frolicking college parties, to mornings wherein memories didn’t melt into the sun but lived within them instead. 

He yearns.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes open ending :D if you have ur own assumptions you can comment them if u want. I also don't plan on making a part 2 .... well. Unless you guys want one that is
> 
> ty so much for reading :] more stuff soon hopefully


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